Love is evil, just spell it backwards
by DallasWinstonLove
Summary: Dallas does an mistake and Curly finds out. How does Dallas handle that Curly goes to an potential love interest for comfort?  One shot.


Curly stopped in his steps and stared at the scene. Dallas….Dallas….How could he….h-h-how? Fucking some girl, a beautiful girl, but that wasn't what crossed Curly's mind. They moved in together, some lousy apartment. Telling people that it was because Tim had kicked out Curly because of his constant drug use and that Levi had convinced Dallas to let him live at Dallas's new place. Levi was Curly's cousin, and Dallas's adoptive dad.

But now…Curly didn't know…They used to cheat on each other all the time before. Well, Dallas cheated, Curly simply sold himself…though…he still cheated. But Curly even stopped selling himself to men when they moved in together, risking his life at stealing the drugs instead of paying for it. Moving in meant something more than the simple shit. But here Dallas was, fucking cheating.

Curly still stared, didn't even manage to move away, so angry, so….hurt, tears building up, making his eyes glassy, the color of his eyes getting deeper, tears slipping down his cheeks, down his pale cheeks, running down, swinging slightly in against his lips before passing his lips, further down his jaw, down his throat, soon, his cheeks and throat and even a bit of his shirt wet.

Dallas stopped, froze, realizing that none other than Curly was standing there and Dallas didn't really care if he cheated or not, no remorse there. Of course, he was allowed to cheat…though, that didn't mean Curly was allowed to. But he frowned, he caught himself frowning because Curly was crying and he hated it when Curly cried. He….he just hated it.

He got up, fucking nearly falling out of the bed, pretty much throwing the woman away, not caring that Curly saw her completely naked. Himself, already had and Curly was completely fucking queer so no problem. He pulled on his underwear and jeans, figuring that since Curly seemed to have frozen there, he had time to do so. He kept staring at Curly though, afraid he'd suddenly run. He stood up and walked against Curly but quickly figured that it was a less smart choice because Curly backed, shot away from him. "Go away!" he shouted, lifting his hand, using the back of his hand to wipe his tears, pretty much smear the tears into his hair. Just like a child would.

Dallas frowned deeply and took a step against him, not wanting to let him run off. "Get the fuck away from me!" Curly shrieked, his eyes wild by now, angry, hurt, and Dallas, his temper mixed with fear of losing Curly got the best of him and he grabbed Curly's arms tightly, growling at him. "Shut the fuck up and hear me up!" Dallas snapped but it only caused Curly to get even more angry and he pulled away roughly, his nail digging down in Dallas skin, scratching him deeply. Curly's nails weren't long but he had just bitten them down, but Curly never did it properly, so they were spikey and sharp. Dallas hissed and without really thinking, he shoved the younger boy into the wall and Curly growled, so angry, so hurt. He hit Dallas's chest, hard but only with his palm, not clenched hands. No fists. But Dallas, Dallas is Dallas and he just couldn't control his fist. His clenched fist went straight in Curly's face. Dallas was a strong hood and he knew how to throw a good punch. Blood came from Curly's broken nose. It wasn't the first time his nose was broken. And of course, it was Dallas being the winner of being the one that had broken most bones on Curly.

Curly shoved Dallas away, and ran for it, ran as fast as he could to the nearest window, throwing himself through it. Dallas screamed, panicked. Who could blame him? He ran to the window, staring down on Curly's body. It was bloody, cut, Dallas could even see it from where he stood. Was he dead? He could be, but not necessarily. It wasn't too far down. Curly had survived worse. He just hoped the glass never managed to cut any veins. But Curly moved and Dallas felt a wave of relief wash over him but as Curly looked up on him, the death glare in his eyes as he ran off.

Of course, this seemed to be overly dramatic but when you considered the fact that Curly was high as fuck and had been on the run from people that very much wanted Curly dead because of what he did. Because he fucked, because he loved the guy. The same men that had scarred his back with the words. "I'M QUEER! I'M JUDAS! I ENJOY GETTING FUCKED BY GUYS!" The words were burned into his back. Even if Curly would of wanted to fuck a woman, he couldn't. He couldn't risk anyone seeing his back. He had been so fucking close to get some to skin his back. To get it away.

Curly arrived Buck's, knowing that there would be free rooms, which weren't free but who ever paid anyway? As he ran up the stairs, he tripped, but didn't fall down the stairs. However, there was a snap in his wrist and Curly whimpered. He managed to get on his feet, a new wave of tears washing over him and he got into the nearest free room and he reached the nearest corner, which was just next to door.

In a fit of pain, he kept hitting the wall, with both his good hand and his broken one. More tears came to his eyes and he slide down, in the corner, rocking, holding his hand, trying to process everything. Trying to work it all out. It hurt so much.

Downstairs, a young man had been sipping his scotch. He had watched the crying boy and frowned. This young man, James Summers, loved Curly, just like Dallas Winston loved Curly. But James, after having been shot and was believed to be dead…black spots on his brain shaped and he just didn't see right from wrong and he wasn't just in love with Curly, a sick obsession. Not a good thing. But maybe now, maybe at this moment, it was a good thing. He shoved the glass of scotch, knowing it would fall over the counter, down on the floor, breaking. He heard the glass break into pieces and smirked. Everyone looked on him, just was James wanted. He was attention sick. He constantly needed the flashlight on him and no one else.

He walked up the stairs and heard the sobbing and entered the room, looking down on the crying Curly and suddenly, all need for attention on him vanished, he just focused on Curly, just like the old days, when they were best friends, when James looked after Curly and Curly looked after James. "Curly, what happened?" he asked and Curly's head shot up, looking on him with deep teary eyes and James gulped. He craved Curly, needed him but this wasn't the time for that. He wanted more than anything to kiss Curly but he sank down on his knees and took his bad hand, examining it, having seen when Curly tripped in the stairs. "It's broken." He mumbled and Curly wiped his eyes with his good hand, using the sleeve of his sweater.

James tilted Curly's head, making him look at him, not to kiss him, but to just make Curly look at him, knowing that he had to focus. James knew Curly had problems with focusing and everything. Sometimes, he needed to be directed. "What happened?" he asked, demanding but softly. Before Curly got to even answer, James sat down, next to him, wrapping an arm around him and before James really got to say anything, trying to make Curly talk, Curly laid down in James's lap and the Summers's boy sighed and stroke Curly's hair as he told everything that had happened and James frowned. He wanted to kick the living shit out of Dallas. How the fuck did he dare to be such a…such a…fuck man!

Dallas Winston, on the other side was pissed off…so pissed off because he let Curly slip out of his grip. He needed that damn fucker! He did what he did best. He found a fight. A nasty fight. Equally broken bones and bloodshed on both parts. Dallas heard the familiar sounds of the sirens and knew the fuzz would show and then, boom, he would be in his second home. But it was when he saw the cop car he realized one thing and frowned. If he was in jail…..James would get to Curly and then Curly would never look at him again. Never! He turned around. Ran, as fast as possible. Thankfully, the fuzz didn't see him.

Where would Curly be? Where? Where? What was closest when you had a cut up body like that? Bucks! Bucks! Dallas just had to go with it and ran to it, hoping that Curly was there, alone. If he was with James, Dallas might just kill himself.

Dally ignored the looks as he raced through the room and up the stairs and looked through a few rooms before he finally found the right one. And Dallas wished he never walked in there. Curly…curly was in his arms…in _his _arms! Dallas growled but to be honest…he wanted more to cry than anything. It just pained him so fucking much when he was…with…with that lousy little shit that had no idea of right and wrong in the whole god damn world!

James looked up on Dallas and at first, there was nothing but honest worry and care for the boy in his arms but soon a smile, a smile of triumph showed on his lips and Dallas wanted to rip his fucking head off. Curly was sleeping though, basically being in the corner, just, on James as well. "Go Dallas…don't torture yourself. You blew it. I won. You lost. Just leave. Don't hurt him more by being there when he wakes up. He'll just have yet another bad memory of you. Just leave. He don't need you. He never has. You're wasting your time. You're just going to fuck him up man. Make him start shooting heroin as well. Because…you know it was your fault. It's your fault that he's an drug addict, that he don't have an ear, finger…his back…all your fault. So, do yourself a big fat favor and leave before Curly wakes up to face his nightmare, you." James said, sly to the bones.

Dallas…Dallas had never thought it would hurt that much..having someone say it. Dallas had no problem believing it. He had always believed it. That he was no good for Curly. He looked on Curly. Man…he loved that guy. He loved him so fucking much. But he had to do what was right…in his complicated mind. He turned and started to walk towards the door. He stopped, only for a second. It was when he heard his name being called out. By a small, fragile voice. Needing. No…that voice didn't need him. It was just something Dallas imagined. He started walking again, fast, quickly. Was he running? He didn't know. Maybe. Possible. Most likely.

Before he really knew it, he was standing on the bridge, looking down. When did he become this pathetic? That he wanted to kill himself just because some guy he had been around with a lot had rejected him? Love! That was what happened! Love, he hated love. Love is evil, just spell it backwards. He was never fucking going to love anyone ever again. No, he wouldn't be around to love anyone else.

"Dallas…." That voice, that voice was there again! Dallas turned around and saw Curly and he frowned. Why did curly had to be there now? When he was busy trying to kill himself. "Dallas…please…come down here…." Curly pleaded because Curly needed his Dallas to be alive, he needed him to be alive for fuck's sake! Curly was nothing without Dallas…absolutely nothing. Dallas laughed, cold and empty. "Fuck no, Curly." He said, making Curly frown softly. "Please Dallas…come down here..Please. You can't die! I need you to be here! I need you to be there for me…I know I'm selfish but I need you and I can't help it. I love you too much Dallas, I can't handle it, if you're not here. Please. Don't….Don't jump." He said, the thick tears building up in his eyes again. The tears Dally was too weak for.

Dallas didn't like this, he didn't like how he just wanted to wrap his arms around Curly and hold him close, whisper things to him, tell him things would be okay. But he couldn't. He just…No, fuck no. He wasn't good for him! "James's right…." Dallas said, his voice sharp but soft, cold but warm, his words was going against his heart. "No…he's not. He's always lying! He only want things for himself. He's just lying, Dallas. Please…" he pleaded, scratching his hand. Badly. Dallas frowned at that. And before he had a clue, he was walking again Curly. Needing him to stop harm himself. Dallas knew Curly didn't mean to scratch himself. But curly was easy to affect.

Curly looked up on Dallas with big eyes as he felt Dallas pulling his hands apart and held Curly's hands in his hands. Curly looked on Dallas. He wanted to stroke his cheek, but there was no hand available. He stood on his toes and stroke Dallas's cheek, using the tip of his nose to do so with. Much like a cat would…Dallas frowned softly. He didn't like this. "Don't believe him.." Curly reassured. Dallas gulped before capturing his lips with his own, kissing Curly. "I love you man…"


End file.
